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And you… do you know what you are?” “Stupid?” “Beautiful,” he says, his face turning red.

Elizabeth Scott

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Elizabeth Scott
Says
Face
Faces
Beautiful
Turning
Red
Stupid

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Okay, I guess you can come in. Um, Hannah, you have to, you know, open the front door so I can actually come in. I thought you were going to - you're standing under my window. Aren't you supposed to climb up here or something? My ladder's at home. Also, you call throwing rocks at your window clichéd?
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Things change. Stuff happens. Life goes on.
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Grace is my favourite church word. A state of being. Something you can pray for. Something God can grant. Something you can obtain. Perfection is out of reach. But grace -- grace you can reach for.
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She became a story, one I have mostly forgotten. One I can't end because she died a long time ago.
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Look at me. We aren´t them lauren. You´re not your mother or father any more than I´m my mother. You´re you and I´m me and I love you.
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But the past couple of days I’ve missed you so much it’s felt like missing you is all I am.
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I didn't feel anything watching him go. I didn't even wish I did.
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I’m broken, I have cut myself wide open. I can see my heart and it is not what I believed it was, it is not good and kind and all the things I have always thought I am.
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It could be enough, maybe, or at least a start, but the problem is that at night I tumble into dreams that aren't dreams at all. I tumble into memories and wake up aching for a dying world and a quiet, cold life that offered me nothing but sitting in a still room.
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Kate, don't be like that. You know I only did so well because I yearn-see, SAT word- to follow you to college and steal your heart. Uh-huh. Too bad for you I don't plan on attending clown college. He grinned. Only you would ignore the incredibly sweet thing I just said. Only you would describe one of your asinine comments as incredibly
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Talking about someone who makes you happy actually makes you happy.
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I never went for the talkers.
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I love books. I like that the moment you open one and sink into it you can escape from the world, into a story that's way more interesting that yours will ever be.
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I don’t know, shifted a little or something, smoothed down–people would think of me the way they think of Dave, and everything would always be perfect. I would be perfect.
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But I know a lie when I hear one.
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Imagine a guy. He’s a little taller than you, with perfect skin, skin that just screams “touch me!” and dark hair and gorgeous blue eyes and he looks so sweet and he is sweet. And then have him blush a little.
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the thing is you can get used to anything you think you cant you want to die but you dont you cant you just are
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I don't know how I know that, but I do. I can feel the beat of that truth inside me. Taste it bitter on my tongue. Sometimes, like now, I didn't think I want to know who I really am.
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Check it out. I got a new name tag today. He unclipped it and held it out toward me. I looked at it. A. GUY. He grinned. Someone actually asked me what the A stood for, he said, his hand brushing mine as he took the tag back, sliding it into his pocket. I said Larry.
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...sometimes, you have to break your own heart.
Elizabeth Scott